


Don Ho and the Born Again Virgin

by Muffie



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-08
Updated: 2008-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muffie/pseuds/Muffie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's tough to find a date when you're an old colonel in a 15 year old body. It's even tougher when some guy in an eyepatch and Hawaiian print tries to stab your date with a piece of wood. Then the cops get involved and it's time for the snark-fest (and fic) to begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mirandizing Morons

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Chosen, vaguely in tune with Season 8 of Buffy. Season 7 of SG-1, pre-Heroes. Simmons makes an impossible appearance because I didn't want to write an original character and Woolsey didn’t really fit so well. Extra-English Linguistic stuff extrapolated from the fact that SG creative people used Meriotic hieroglyphics as goa’uld script and I know that Ancient Greek is descended from Meriotic; though I'm vague on the extent. I completely made the etymological and word meaning stuff up. So not an Egyptologist, nor do I have access to a Meriotic/Demotic to English dictionary.

Teal'c lifted his right eyebrow as he perused the television screen. The image did not alter. He tilted his head, just a bit. The squalling man-child raged against the two policemen holding him firmly against the police car. Teal'c picked up the cellular phone and pressed the second speed dial number. "O'Neill. You will wish to tune your television to channel 4," he stated before O’Neill could say anything.

"What the hell for, T?" O'Neill grumped. As expected, O'Neill tuned his television to the requested channel. "That little shit!"

Another squalling man, this one a few years older, hit the police car next to the image of a furious clone of Jack O'Neill. "We weren't doing anything wrong!" The man yelled. "We were just, um, walking!"

The police officer grimaced for the camera. "In the cemetery? At night?"

"We were *bleep* attacked! You *bleep* cops do your *bleep* *bleep* *bleep*!" the clone of O'Neill bellowed. "What in the *bleep* does a *bleep* guy have to do to get any service around here? *bleep* die?"

"Hey, it's not what you think, sir," the other man said. "There were some guys that were, like, on PCP or something and they came out of no where. They attacked this kid here and I helped him out."

"Yeahsureyoubetcha. More like I helped you out Pirate Boy and what's with that shirt? Did Don Ho puke on you or what?" The clone of O'Neill jerked against the police officer. "Hey! I know my rights Kojack!"

The other man heaved a sigh and slumped against the police car. "Make that tried to help him out. Rambo here screamed like a little girl and peed his pants."

The clone of O'Neill kicked at the other man. "I did not!"

Two of the police officers expertly snapped handcuffs on the two men. One of them snarled, much like Dirty Harry had in many of his movies. "Knock it off you two. You both have the right to remain silent."

Both handcuffed men ignored the officer.

"You're right. The girls I know wouldn't scream like that unless there was a shoe sale involved." The other man said.

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," the police officer continued, lifting both man-children from the hood and pushing them toward the open doors of the police car.

From the receiver of the telephone came the sound of moaning and the rhythmic thumping of what might have been O'Neill's head on a piece of wood, such as a table or door.

"The girls you know only scream when the farmer yells sooooooeeeeee!" the clone of O'Neill snapped, bodily lifting himself against the police officer in protest at being dragged to the car.

"The girls I know don't think I'm a walking happy meal, runt boy. And when they find out you called them pigs," the other man-child gave an exaggerated shudder, "you are so going to be not wanting to be alive boy."

The camera operator started to swing away from the two of them, but one of the milling cops forcefully kept the eye on the action. There was more groaning from O'Neill.

The clone of O'Neill gave a sniff of disdain. "I'm not afraid of girls, Don. And I am the full meal deal."

"Hey!" The police officer forcing the clone of O'Neill to the car yelled. "I'm talkin' here! You've got the right to an attorney."

The other man-child grinned blindingly at the clone of O'Neill. "Scrawny bugger like you, you're about 4 quarts. Tops. Hardly a full meal for her."

"Shut up!" the police officer yelled. "If you can't afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."

"What in the *beep* is that supposed to mean?" the clone of O'Neill demanded.

"Do either of you two understand these right as I've explained them to you?"

The two men-children glared at the police officer. "Yes!"

"You can cut to your reporter now," the police officer near the camera operator stated. "We'll need a copy of that tape. For evidence."

A few seconds later, a startled reporter blinked into the camera and fumbled with the microphone. "Well, ah. I'm Stephanie Messner with KSGO in Colorado Springs near Evergreen Cemetery where local police have just arrested two men in connection with the Dracula Murders."

"Oh Jesus Christ," O'Neill groaned. "T, have the OOD call in Hammond. I'm on my way in."


	2. Showin' the Love

Three hours later, Jon O'Neill was still handcuffed in a holding cell with the Don Ho the one-eyed pirate wannabe, who was likewise handcuffed. The insult-fest had died down into a mutual glaring contest an hour ago and he was still waiting for his fucking phone call. SG-1 had better get here before they uncuffed him, that's all he had to fucking say.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Jack O'Neill."

"Well shit." Jon slumped against the bars. Simmons.

Simmons turned and smirked at Don Ho. "And Alexander Harris."

Don Ho narrowed his eye at Simmons. "And you are?"

"Nothing to worry about, Mr. Harris. You'll be coming with me. Obviously, you had nothing to do with the Dracula Murders. My people will straighten that out with the PD. We merely would like an...exchange of information." Simmons smiled.

Don Ho was a fucking idiot, but someone needed to save his loser ass from Simmons. And it looked like his savior was going to have to be one Jon O'Neill. Why did this save the world and hapless geeks shit always have to happen to him?

"I'm not going. I want my lawyer." Don Ho turned his attention to the cops beyond the bars. The cops scuffled their feet and looked hopeless. "He can't take me out of here without a lawyer. I know my rights!"

One of the cops shrugged, but didn't look at them. "He's got an order from Washington."

"Well fuckety-duck," Jon groused.

"Watch your mouth, kid," one of the cops said dryly as he opened the cell door. "Okay you two, march."

"They'll attempt to escape, officers," Simmons said. "Don't let it happen."

"Damned straight," Jon said.

"Shut the hell up, dude," Don Ho hissed. "You trying to give us up or what?"

Jon smirked at Simmons. "What? It's not like they don't already know."

Don Ho glared. "You suck and so not in the good way."

"I wouldn't suck you in the good way even if I did swing that way, was drunk off my ass, and you were my only hope for losing my cherry. Ever."

The cops groaned and shoved them down the hallway. "Not this shit again.

Don Ho ignored them. "A hole in the fence is your only hope for losing your cherry. Ever."

"Says you, pirate boy. Women love me."

Don Ho snorted. "Asking your blood type is not showing the love, zit boy."

"She was just checking out our compatibility." Jon managed to sidestep the cop enough to nudge Don Ho with his shoulder, hard. "She was into that New Age crap. A real Shirley MacLaine clone.

"Shut it down, both of you," Simmons snarled.

Jon pulled his most innocent face. "What, Kinsey turn you down again?"

Don Ho groaned and tripped over a non-existent crack in the floor of the underground parking garage. "Can we just get on with this military kidnapping of the Xandman? I've got stuff to do that doesn't involve you people and your weirdo love-fest."

The door to a plain van with government plates opened and they were unceremoniously dumped into it.

"The government thanks you for your help, gentlemen," Simmons said to the cops as he got into the passenger seat. Doors were slammed all around and then the van was in motion.

"Well this is big with the greatness. Not!"

Jon squinted at Pirate Ho. "What are you, some kind of Jimmy Buffett surfer dude?"

"Jeez," Don Ho growled, "you spend a Scooby weekend with doing a class reunion kind of thing and you never hear the end of it."

"Kindergarten does class reunions? Aren't you the lucky graduate."

Don Ho ignored him. His tongue stuck out of his mouth and his eye was squinty. A moment later, the handcuffs clicked.

Jon's eyes widened. As Pirate Ho would say, way with the coolness. Or something like that. Jon wasn't up on his moron-speak.

Don Ho did a few facial contortions and eye tics that Jon took to mean turn around and let me unlock you. It took a bit of maneuvering, but they managed to get his wrists into Don Ho's hands without Simmons noticing. A few prods at his wrists and palms with what felt like the pointy end of a paper clip and muttered sorries later, his own handcuffs clicked open.

Jon sidled up to Don Ho's ear and whispered, "This is the plan. I get Simmons and you take out the driver."

"Right, kiddo. That's your plan. My plan is to jump out of this bad boy the second it slows down and run like hell. In case you haven't noticed they have guns and we're not so big with the weaponage. Not to mention you're a twerp."

"We have the element of surprise, loser boy. Besides, your guy is driving. He'll be too worried about not killing himself when he wrecks. I'll take out Simmons, easy peasy. All he ever carries is a standard issue 9 mil. I doubt he even cleans it. Then we won't be stranded. Not to mention, they won't shoot you down like a running jack ass with road rash when you jump out of the van and try running when it slows down."

Don Ho hummed quietly. "There is that. You sure you can take down Himmler over there? You're built like a toothpick. A toothpick with a few strands of peach fuzz."

Jon glowered. "I can take him. Easy peasy. You do your job and I'll do mine. And don't get us all killed."

"Touchy."

The crept up on the driver and Simmons like a well oiled set of partners. At least until the driver caught sight of them in the rear view, sounded the alarm and Simmons brought his gun around. Don Ho yelped and beaned the driver on the head with his fist, knocking the man out cold. Jon and Simmons both leaped for the wheel at the same time, butting heads painfully. Jon wrapped his fingers around the barrel of Simmons' .45—what happened to the standard issue 9 mil? dammit there went Jon's street cred—and wrenched it out of the man's hand. He flipped it to the back of the van. Don Ho scrabbled over the driver's seat and took command of the van. Satisfied that they weren't immediately going to die, just maybe in a few minutes with the way Don Ho took charge of things, Jon managed to snag Simmons in a sleeper hold. The man was brutally strong. He didn't remember him being that strong last time they tangled, which to be fair, Jon had been a bit bigger and a lot older at the time. The weight differential threw him off and he landed on his butt and rolled to the back of the van.

Simmons bellowed something, but Don Ho ignored it in favor of nearly flipping them all over in some sort of cinematic action sequence straight out of Die Hard or Lethal Weapon. Simmons' gun conked Jon on the head and landed in his lap. Gee, Don Ho was handy after all. Smirking, he scooped it up and pointed it at Simmons.

"Hey, loser boy, whenever you feel comfy with your new role as Jeeves, find a spot and pull over," Jon said. "Simmons here wants to start talking."

The driver's side door opened and the driver flipped out onto the road. Damn and they had to be doing at least fifty. Don Ho was vicious. The driver's door slammed shut and Don Ho settled in to the seat. The van immediately throttled down into a legal speed and smoothed to a stroll between the lines. Well, much better.

"I don't have anything to say to you, O'Neill."

"So, say something to Don Ho."

Simmons blinked. "Who?"

Jon gestured to the front with the gun. "Harris."

"What?" Don Ho yelled back. "There's a rest area coming up, I'll pull off there."

"What do you want with Harris?"

Simmons didn't say a word. He ripped the van door open and flung himself out of it.

"Well fuck!"

Don Ho slammed on the brakes, the van fishtailed on its pre-ABS brakes before sliding to a halt. Seconds later, Don Ho was pelting after Simmons.

Jon leaped out of the van and raced after both of them. "Dammit! Wait the hell up, moron! He's a trained military, even if he's a slimy NID weasel and you're some kind of Jimmy Buffett tribute artist without the tequila!"

"NID? God dammit! Why the fuck didn't you say so in the first place!" Don Ho bellowed and poured on the speed.

Who the hell knew the man could move so fast? He looked dopey in his get up. Okay, face it, he looked really stupid in the middle of Colorado in a Hawaiian shirt. But here he was, looking like a world class sprinter in a Jimmy Buffett costume complete with eye patch. Jon was having serious trouble keeping up with him, even in the snazzy new 15 year old body.

Simmons popped up out of the bushes beside the road about 10 yards in front of him and did the 'I'm too old for this shit' stagger back toward the police station. Don Ho plowed into the man like Bob Probert doing a deep slot body check.

Jon trotted to stop and faked a sympathetic wince. "Ouch, that had to hurt, Frankie. My man Don here, has a hell of a tackle for a Jimmy Buffett fan. No wasting away in margaritaville for him."

Don Ho ignored him. So did Simmons, who was busy getting the everlasting shit beat out of him by the aforementioned Don Ho. Who knew?

"Didn't we tell you and your little group of idiots to stay the hell out of our business? Didn't we?" Don Ho yelled.

In the distance, sirens kicked up.

"Shit!" Jon didn't want to get between pirate boy and the smack down he was laying on Simmons, but they had to beat feet. "Get a move on there, Harris. We've got company coming!"

Harris twisted one of Simmons' arm behind him and forced him toward the van. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here, Nazi. You wanna have a little chat with my people, right?"

Simmons' eyes gleamed. Well, the one that wasn't starting to swell in colors that matched Harris' fashion sense gleamed.

"You got it. You can talk to Buffy."

Jon stopped dead in his tracks, eyes bulging. "Buffy? You know someone named _Buffy_?"

"Yeah, you called her a pig."

"I can't wait to meet this chick. A girl named Buffy that the NID wants to meet."

"You aren't meeting her, kid. You are getting dropped off at your parents' house," Harris said.

Jon laughed. "Yeahsureyoubetcha. My _parental unit_ probably saw the whole Cops scene on TV and is now at the Mountain getting his ass reamed by the old man."

Harris shoved Simmons into the van, which Jon heartily agreed with even though Simmons was apparently completely willing to get into on his own. He handcuffed the man with both sets of cuffs.

"Speaking of TV, the next time someone saves your ass from your serial killer girlfriend, don't try to save her!"

"Of course I was going to save her, you were going to stab her! With a piece of wood! What the fuck was that all about? Van Helsing? You've been watching way too much TV and getting way into these Dracula murders."

Simmons casually crossed his ankles and smirked at Harris. Harris glowered at him and slammed the door.

"As if. Dracula. Ha!" Harris climbed into the driver's seat. "Drac is such a pansy anyway. He has to have his stupid virgins in his stupid goblets in his stupid formal wear with his stupid candelabras. God. Like he'd wander around a cemetery in a place like Colorado Springs. So not his style."

"That's it, I'm driving," Jon said.

"Do you even have a license, zits?" Harris said.

"Did your day pass from the looney bin expire, Renfield?"

"Hey! So not a Renfield!" Harris yelped. "The bug eating thing happened only once and it was totally not my fault."

Jon edged closer to the passenger door. "To quote the cheerleader princess that slapped my face in biology, you have issues, loser."

Don Ho rolled his eyes and the van shimmied between the lines. "Issues. Of course I have issues. I'm an American. We invented Oprah. What's a pipsqueak like you throwing around names like Kojak and Jimmy Buffett? Putting on an impenetrable shield of creepy to maintain your fresh and pristine status to the grave, cherry?"

Simmons giggled.

Jon glared over the seat. "Don't make me shoot you."

Don Ho smirked. "Oh yeah, that just screams self-confident and just maybe gonna get laid someday. Not!"

"Having a sense of history does not make me uncool."

"Knowing which President Monica Lewinski gave a BJ to in the Oval Office is having a sense of history. Knowing ancient Nick at Nite shows and old dude music is having a sense of direction in virginville. Speaking of directions, cherry, gimme yours. To your house."

Jon glowered at Simmons. "You gotta a phone? I gotta call the Mountain."

Don Ho frowned. "What the hell does the NID want with you anyway? Your parents involved in something those Nazis find interesting?"

Jon grinned. "You could say that."

Simmons lips compressed in displeasure until they turned into a teeny white line.

Jon patted him down and yanked out a phone. He dialed the General's office at the SGC. "Hey Walter, this Jon O'Neill. Is Colonel O'Neill or General Hammond in? This is kind of important."

"Uh, Col--uh, Mr. O'Neill! They're in the, hang on, sir, I'll patch you through."

Well great. "Mr. O'Neill," General Hammond's voice said, clearly displeased with him. "You're no longer in police custody."

"Jon," his DNA donor chided. Speaker phone. Lovely.

"Hi Dad. I'm with Simmons in a van and the guy I was arrested with wants to drop me off at home. Simmons really wants to talk to this guy."

Don Ho made a snatch for the phone, but Jon ducked it.

"Hey! Keep your eyes on the road, Renfield!"

"I am not Renfield! Geesh! And give me that phone! I want to talk to your parents!" Don Ho made a reach for the phone again.

"Are you _trying_ to get us killed or something? Watch the frickin road!" Jon slipped out of the seat, past the grasping hands and went to seat with the gun pointed at Simmons.

"What in the devil is going on, O'Neill?" the General demanded.

"Me and the guy I was arrested with, Alexander Harris—"

"Hey!" Don Ho yelled. "Who in the fuck are you talking to!"

"Sam." That was the DNA donor. Jon assumed that meant the phone was being triangulated. Which was a good thing because Don Ho slammed on the brakes, sending them all careening for the front of the van.

"I'm talking to my Dad, just like you said, Renfield," Jon snapped. "What in the fuck are you doing? Trying to kill us all?"

"Easy, Harris. O'Neill, calm down," Simmons said.

"O'Neill?" the General asked from the phone.

"Fuck you!" they both yelled.

The van backed up, abruptly hung a right, and then bounced into what appeared to be a pasture or a field. The phone came out of his hand, but he held onto the gun. A good colonel never lost his weapon. Simmons squealed.

"Jon? Jon? Are you there? Jon?" It was the DNA donor.

He snatched the phone from the metal floor. "I'm here. I'm okay."

Simmons was moaning and appeared to be floating in and out of consciousness. Don Ho wrapped his hand around the medallion he wore and lifted it to his lips. "Wills."

"Are you completely insane?" Jon yelled.

"We have your position," Sam said quietly. "You're about twenty minutes from the Mountain. We'll be there in thirty."

"Hold your position, Jon. We're on the way," the DNA donor said.

"Roger," Jon said.

"Xan?" a disembodied female voice said.

"Hey Wills. We got camo-boy probs. I've got an NID stooge with me. Was gonna bring him in the normal way, but I've got a pipsqueak that just gave my name to a Colonel O'Neill or a General Hammond in the Mountain. Need some backup." Don Ho glared at Jon, who'd swung the gun on him. "Camo-boys said they'll be here in thirty."

"Xander," the girl said in a disappointed mom voice.

"It so wasn't my fault Wills!" Don Ho protested. "Pipsqueak was making out with this vamp in a cemetery. He was about to go a few quarts low when I so helpfully saved his neck. He tried to kill me for it, the ungrateful little shit."

Jon couldn't let that one go. "You tried to kill my date first! Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've gotten laid?!"

 

"She was a vampire, you moron!" Don Ho snapped. "You've never been laid and you weren't going to get laid."

"Xander? What's going on?" another girl's voice demanded.

"It's been over a year. I'm dying of blue balls here."

"Oh, please. Rubbing your sister's Barbies against your GI Joe dolls does not constitute getting laid," Don Ho snarked. "It's nothing, Buff. Just an annoying little pissant whining because girls don't like him."

"Is that why you stole my Barbies?" the original girl asked. She sounded halfway amused and halfway pissed off.

Don Ho rolled his eyes. "Wills. Just do something before the camo-boys get here."

Both girls giggled.

Jon was tempted to shoot Don Ho, just on principle. "I am not a piss—what the fuck!"

The van spent a few seconds making like the stargate without the actual whoosh. There was a brief earpop and some dizziness, as if he'd been moved from one place to another without actually moving at all.

The side door slid open.


	3. This Is Why I'm a Lesbian

Jon wheeled around, pointing the gun. A short blonde stood there in the frame of the van's door, backdropped by an empty warehouse. Her hands on her hips and her breasts pushing against a cropped shirt that left her tanned belly bare. The lights from the warehouse backlit her like rock star on a stage. God she was hot. "Easy there, little guy," she said. The gun twitched in his hand for a moment and then slowly lowered. Every hormone his 15 year old body could possibly produce raced everywhere at once.

He hated, absolutely hated being 15. Special ops colonels with 20 years of experience under their belts did not notice hotness and boobs first. They threat assessed first, then they noticed sexiness and boobs once the all clear was given.

"Don't shoot my friends, cherry," Don Ho said, slapping him in the back of his head. "Hey Buff. The pipsqueak is Jon O'Neill. He's seriously giving off the not what he seems vibeage, but I think he's human. That guy's NID. He's really into talking to you."

Buffy smiled at him—God, she had a pretty smile—and plucked both the gun and cell phone out of his unresisting hands. "Hi. I'm Buffy. We'll deal with you once we take care of the slime bucket. You won't make any trouble for me, will you?"

Focus. Dammit focus. Get the gun back, ignore her smile and her—ooooh yeah—cleavage. He grinned at her. Keep eye contact, airman. Eye contact. Face. Look in her face. Smile and reach for the gun. "No problem, Buffy."

She smiled more, dimpling up. "Thanks!" She tucked the gun into the back of her pants, then hopped into the van with a flash of sweet smelling hair and that ass!

Aargh! Jon turned and started beating his head against the van. Special ops colonel here. Special ops colonel here.

"Hey there, don't do that. You'll hurt yourself." A bottle of water wavered in his peripheral vision. "Have some water, you must be thirsty. They probably don't give you a lot of stuff to drink in jail and it's got to be really gross and stuff in there anyway. I've seen a lot of it on TV and stuff and it never looked really sanitary. You probably didn't have a lot of time to stop for something to drink when you were getting away from the NID anyway and a growing boy needs to keep hydrated. I don't know how we kept Xander fed. Are you hungry? We don't have a lot of food here, but I think we've got a few sandwiches and maybe some Twinkies, but I don't think you'll get any of those. Xander's not big with the Twinkie sharing, except with me if I give him the puppy dog eyes. But I think it's because he knows I don't like Twinkies and I won't eat very many. Hi, I'm Willow and this is Kennedy."

He turned to face a pretty red-head with a pretty brunette draped possessively over her.

"We're going to ask you a few questions, okay?" Willow said. "It'd be best if you answered them."

The special ops colonel in him said that Willow was a nice lady and Kennedy had a bigger attitude than Carter during the first SGC briefing. The 15 year old said, "You're lesbians."

Kennedy tensed and moved into a more protective stance. "You've got a problem with that?"

"Uh, no! Not at all! Uh, some of my best friends are lesbians!"

Willow frowned. "No, you can't watch."

"Damn."

The twin glares had him back-pedalling. Behind the two lesbians, Don Ho was miming death by laughter.

"I said that out loud, didn't I? Sorry. I'm sorry! It's just that being 15, it's hard to think like a human being instead of a walking hormone." Jon tried on a self-deprecating grin for size. It appeared to mollify the two. "And you have to admit, the two of you are very pretty. Pretty enough to making walking hormones engage in suicidal behavior."

Don Ho mouthed a silent, nice save, and gave him two thumbs up.

"So what does the NID want with you?" Kennedy asked.

Jon shrugged. "My old man works at the Mountain doing top secret stuff."

Don Ho did the fake cough-bullshit routine. Willow gave Don Ho the mom glare and kicked him. Those looked like they were the same age, even though Willow acted Jon's actual age and Don Ho acted Jon's body's age.

"Now you can tell me the truth, pipsqueak," Kennedy said.

"I told you the truth. My old man does stuff at the Mountain. The NID usually tries to force them into doing stuff. They kidnapped the General's granddaughters a couple years ago."

Don Ho snorted. "Still getting the weird vibeage. Something's not right in cherryland."

Kennedy made a fist and grinned ferally.

"Let's just do this the easy way," Willow said, placing a hand on Kennedy's arm. "Veritas."

A brief breeze kicked up in the warehouse they were in, mussing through her hair and then pushing into Jon. His eyes widened.

"What does the NID want with you?" Willow asked.

"I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill's clone. They can do a lot of stuff with me because of that, anything from using all of the knowledge he's gotten through use of the stargate, to predicting what he'll do next. And what the fuck?!"

Willow frowned. "Clone? Who cloned you?"

"Loki, that little gray son-of-a-bitch."

"Loki, the god?"

"He's not a god, he's an alien."

"Aliens? The government is into aliens now?" Don Ho yelped. "Haven't those idiots learned anything?"

Willow ignored him. "What's a stargate?"

Was it just him, or was this truth thing getting annoying? "It's a gate that creates a controlled, stable wormhole that was, as near as we can figure, built by an ancient race tens of thousands of years ago."

"Where does this gate lead?"

"It's a part of a stargate network that leads to gates on planets all over this galaxy and in at least one other galaxy that we know of for sure and possibly several others."

Willow frowned. "What is the government doing with the stargate?"

"Mostly, we are exploring. We're looking for allies, trading partners, and to find military technologies to use against our enemies."

"Military wankers," Don Ho snarled.

Willows eyes started to get a little less clear and little bit darker. And geez. "What enemies?"

"The goa'uld, They're aliens, not human! It's an international effort, not just us," Jon volunteered. "We aren't like _them_." He glared toward the side of the van, where Simmons was on the other side. He could hear the low murmur of voices, one Simmons and one Buffy. Buffy. Just the name made his spine melt. Kee-rist. What he wouldn't give to be 18. Even 17. Old enough to beat back puberty with a frickin stick!

Kennedy crossed her arms and glared at him. "The goa'uld?"

"They're a parasitic alien race. They're like snakes that invade a person. They get into the body, wrap around the spinal cord and take over. They're the enemy. They think they're gods because they're so technologically advanced. We killed Ra our first time through the gate."

"Ra. _Ra_." Willow's jaw dropped.

"What, you thought they were really gods? Riiiight."

Willow and Don Ho exchanged a look that basically said that they thought Jon O'Neill was an idiot.

"Are you NID?"

Jon was offended to the very last serif on the A of his DNA. "No way!"

Willow turned back to him. "Why were you in the cemetery?"

Jon blushed. "I was on a date."

Don Ho rolled his eyes. "He was horny and a vampire was the only girl that'd say yes."

"Exigo," Willow said. She turned on Don Ho. "Xander Harris, that wasn't very nice. You apologize right now."

"It's the truth! He's a little shit with zits!"

"You mean he's you, eight years ago."

"No way!" Jon wasn't going to stand for this. "I never dressed in the dark at a convention of 80 year old Jimmy Buffett fans! All he needs is knee high socks and a pair of Dr. Scholls and he's ready for shuffle board!"

"I was never a little shit with zits!" Don Ho said with all of the dignity of an offended cat. "I was tall and robust, thank you."

Willow and Kennedy started giggling.

"Hey Wills?" Buffy said.

Jon turned. The special ops colonel immediately tried to avert his eyes, but the 15-year old duly and avidly noted that he could see straight up the belly shirt to the cotton bra with pink flowers on it and popped inappropriate wood.

"What in the hell is that?" Don Ho yelped.

"It came out of NID guy, who is now dead which is way gross, and tried to get up in my face," Buffy said. She lifted a slim arm. In her hand, a snake squealed and writhed.

"Goa'uld. It's a frickin' goa'uld!" Jon yelled. "Kill it!"

There was no way in hell a dainty hand like Buffy's could hold onto a slippery son of a bitch like a goa'uld. Her nails were manicured a particularly lovely shade of frosted pink that matched her bra. He meant her outfit. Her nails matched her outfit, for crying out loud! Her hand convulsed, something cracked, and the snake shrieked once before falling limp.

Jon's jaw dropped. Unfortunately his 15-year old crotch wasn't getting with the program. It was still waving the flag.

"Eeeww," Buffy squealed. "It slimed me! Oh my god, I just bought this tee, too! It's Abercrombie & Fitch!"

"Don't worry, Buffy, we'll get you a new one tomorrow," Don Ho said soothingly.

Buffy sniffled and looked at him with wide eyes. "Really, Xander?"

Don Ho smiled. "Really really."

Jon blinked. Wait. Teal'c needed two hands to kill a goa'uld.

Buffy's smile blinded him. "That's so great of you Xander!"

"It's a fifty dollar shirt, Xan," Kennedy said.

Don Ho looked appalled. "Fifty dollars! For _that_? You were totally ripped off."

Buffy shook her head the way women do when they've heard some male bit of wisdom thousands of times and they think it's stupid. "Xander, good fashion costs."

"Says you."

"Hock Tauri," Jon said. That was the word Danny had used. Or something like it. And the bitch Nirrti. "You're a Hock Tauri."

Willow froze. Don Ho shifted his stance, moving from Jimmy Buffett to something more like Blackbeard. Buffy looked confused. "What?"

"Superior human. The bitch Nirrti was looking for one to inhabit. Before we killed her."

"Hak'Tauri," Willow said, sounding more Danny that Jon did. "It sounds almost Demotic or even Meriotic because of the taur which is etymologically Greek, meaning bull, not human. But that's not a real big deal because Greek comes from Meriotic anyway. Though in Demotic, tauri means something more like vessel or servant-body, kind of like a person that carries a burden. Haarmann thought it mean something like the Hebrews, but it could have been about something more demonic."

"You did say it was Demotic," Buffy pointed out.

Willow gave her a look. "Demotic was a people language, not a demon language. I'm not really sure about the hak part. It didn't come up in my research on the Osiris spell." Willow flinched visibly and shrunk with a meek look in Buffy's direction.

Buffy gave a reassuring look. "It's of the good, Wills. It's okay."

"Osiris?" Jon asked. "Uh. You guys have problems with Osiris? Blonde chick, glowy eyes? Likes to make people bow and scrape?"

He suddenly had their attention.

"The only blonde chick god we know is Glory and we killed her ass dead," Buffy said. "You know of any other dead blonde chick gods that are into starting up apocalypses?"

Jon blinked and opened his mouth, then shut it. Willow narrowed her eyes. Jon pasted on his most honest smile. "Well, Osiris doesn't do the apocalypse thing, I don't think. She's more of the take of the world and make people her slaves kind of a bitch. I guess that can be an apocalypse if she cancels the Simpsons. Not like Hathor, who me and my team killed before I was cloned. Or Ra. Can't forget Apophis, either."

Buffy, Willow, and Don Ho shared a look of complete understanding then said in unison, "Giles."

Jon frowned. "Never heard of a goa'uld named Giles. Is that Egyptian?"

"Giles is of the English and tweedy set. He's ours," Don Ho said.

"Geek squad, huh? Giles. I had a linguist that did 23 languages and the Earth's pre-eminent astrophysicist."

Don Ho grinned. "I'll see your linguist, raise you another linguist slash computer expert slash best cookie baker in the world, and throw in a hardcore sci-fi fan. I also have another linguist and the best astrophysicist in two dimensions on call."

Jon crossed his arms over his chest and sucked in a deep breath. "Ha. I've got a department full of geek squad backup, a department of technogeeks, and the Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet as my best bud."

Don Ho smirked at him, apparently unimpressed. "Military pity brains at best. I've got a 122 year old Maasai witch woman that'll read the bones just because she likes my ass and she's never been wrong yet. I've got the head of the main branch of the biggest law firm in fifteen hell dimensions and fourteen neutral dimensions on my speed dial who'll do what I ask just to make me quit bothering him. I have Dracula doing my research as a personal favor."

Kennedy leaned toward Buffy. "In case you're wondering, this is one of the big reasons why I'm a lesbian."

"Chump change. I've got marines."

"And to that I say ha! I've got Buffy."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "And I've got a dead snake thingy that's really gross and it slimed my new top. So I say we're done with the teenage male bonding part and we're moving on to the what to do next part."

"It's a goa'uld." If Jon could kick himself, he would. It's a goa'uld? Buffy didn't care what it was, just that it was. She wouldn't think that it was helpful and it certainly wouldn't get him a chance with her.

"I say we burn it," Kennedy said. "Unless burning it makes it stink bad. Can't resurrect ashes."

"Unless they're Darla," Willow pointed out. Buffy glared and Willow winced. "Um. Bad moment to be pointing out things girl. Sorry. I'm going to call Giles now."

"What do we do with the dead guy and the dead goody-snake thingy?" Buffy asked Don Ho while Willow dug through a macrame bag for a cell phone. "Usually they get all melty or dusty. We're not big with the whole needing the clean up brigade."

"Giles will probably want the goody-snake. I don't know what to do with the dead guy. He got me out of jail along with zit boy." Don Ho sighed. "We need to call in the professionals."

Buffy nibbled her luscious lower lip. Jon gave his body a stern talking to. "The morgue?" she said, "or the cops? I'm thinking that's not big with the helpage here, Xand."

Don Ho rocked back on his heels and looked up at the ceiling. "I am really hating to say this, but I was thinking more along the lines of Deadboy."

"I was thinking more along the lines of me, actually," the DNA donor said with a smirk. SG-1 and 2 formed up swiftly from around the van.

"It's about damned time you got here," Jon snapped. "Did you get lost or what?"

"Oh poop," Willow said. "I gotta go, Giles, the Army showed up."

"We're Air Force, actually, honey," the DNA donor said. God, was he always such a prick, too, or was it just the old version of himself?

Buffy stood hipshot—and didn't that make his insides stand point and salivate—and said, "Army, Air Force, same diff. You must be daddy."

The DNA donor flashed Buffy a smile. And he didn't even have to fight his hormones for quick check out of the hot body she was sporting. How fair was that? "Jon's got my DNA."

"So we hear," Don Ho said. "How 'bout this. You take your people and your weirdness. We take our people and our weirdness. And we all pretend we've never met. Sound good? Great."

"Not so fast, junior." The DNA donor lazily flashed the P-90 around, just make sure everyone knew he was large and in charge. Jon figured his chances with Buffy were moving from slim and none to transparent and none. He slumped against the van and hoped that Buffy didn't think he was just as big of a dick because they had the same genetics. The DNA donor gestured at Don Ho with the business end of the P-90. "We'll ask some questions. You'll answer them. Once we're satisfied and the area is secured, then you and your friends can skedaddle."

"Jack, they're not armed," Danny said. "Maybe we should try talking to them first and then waving our guns around when they don't cooperate."

"Oh, I don't think so, Rambo," Kennedy said. "We don't deal with NID stooges."

"You just had to go there," Jon muttered.

"We aren't the fucking NID!" the DNA donor exploded. His mouth was open for more bellowing, but Danny put a hand on his shoulder and that shut him down. For now.

"We're not with the NID," Danny said gently. "We're with the Air Force. We work on a top secret project so we can't discuss it, of course, but we don't mean you any harm. Jon was kidnapped and we were a bit worried about him. If you're familiar with the NID, then you can understand why."

Kennedy blew an unsubtle raspberry.

"I'm sure you think you'll have us think you think you mean well," Willow said, "but I think we're going to have be firm about this."

SGs one and two exchanged looks for a moment. Danny rallied gamely.

"We're not out to hurt anyone," Danny said. The DNA donor put on his most disarming grin. Hey, it usually worked, but Jon didn't think it'd win this crowd over. Danny smiled and stepped forward, but not so far that he cut off the DNA donor's line of fire, he spread his hands to show they were empty. "We just want to get to the bottom of what happened and make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Altruistic army guys? What hell dimension coughed you up?" Don Ho snarked.

"We're Air Force," the DNA donor said in his politest tone, through clenched teeth.

Don Ho mimicked the expression. "Oooh, goodie. Wing nuts."

Buffy put her hand up. Don Ho subsided and Jon's dick stirred. "Look. I don't care who you are or who you work for. We aren't going anywhere with you."

The DNA donor smirked. "Technically, you don't really have a choice."

"Wills."

"I'm on it. Gimme about a minute."

"Xander."

Don Ho took a deep breath. "Watch the big guy in the black hat. He's giving off hellmouthy vibeage. We come in peace boy isn't military, but the way the old dude hovers probably makes him non-expendable in their book. Circles or pictures on the collars are good, straight lines next. Anything with arrows is low ranking." Don Ho sent a smarmy smile to the DNA donor. "They think better than the colonel with the birdie over there, but they don't get to tell anyone about it."

The DNA donor scowled and motioned Danny back. Danny, typically enough, ignored that.

"Kennedy."

"Got your back, Buffy. Say the word."

The DNA donor started laughing. "You're going to take us on?" He rattled his gun. "We're armed, honey, you're not. You've got two girlies and a guy that got puked on by Don Ho's closet. I've got two highly trained and highly armed special operations teams. We just want to talk."

Buffy strutted to the center of the two groups. The DNA donor met her halfway. "So talk."

"Okay. Who are you?"

Buffy's posture stiffened. "You said you wanted to talk, that's not talking. That's asking."

"That's the way it works," the DNA donor agreed.

Willow started to chant in Latin. Danny's eyes lasered onto her. "Heat? Metal. Hot. No, make the metal that shoots the pellets hot. What?"

"Shit," Don Ho muttered. "Wills, gunpowder explodes at about 400 degrees Fahrenheit."

Willow smirked at Don Ho, but didn't quit chanting.

One of Ferretti's boys shifted and twisted his weapon uncomfortably. Then they were all doing it, including the DNA donor. A few seconds later, the weapons clattered on the concrete floor, along with the sounds of cursing and the sight of hands getting smacked against thighs and arms or, in Sam's case, blown on and stared at in amazement.

Buffy drew back her fist and sank it into the DNA donor's gut. "That's for pointing guns at me and my friends. Don't you ever do that again."

The DNA donor urked and fell to his knees the same way that most marines did the first time Teal'c hit them in the gut. He curled up around his belly and moaned. Normally Jon wasn't into the dominatrix type women, but that was really cool.

Buffy pointed at Danny who was looking around with his thinking face on. "You, we come in peace boy, come here."

"Stay back, Dr. J," Ferretti ordered.

Buffy put her foot on the DNA donor's head. "I'll talk to you. Dr. J, is it? but none of these idiots. We don't deal with the army."

"We're Air Force!" the DNA donor snarled. "And stay back, Danny!"

"How about I talk from here?" Danny said.

Buffy shrugged. "This is what we want. We want to get out of here and carry on with our lives. We don't care about what you do, just as long as it doesn't involve us and you don't start any apocalypses while you're doing it."

Danny winced. Jon should have figured that. Danny could neither lie for shit nor not apply tempting words like apocalypse to everything from the wrath of Anubis to the fact that they ran out of blue jello in the mess hall.

"Oh shit. You guys started an apocalypse!" Don Ho slumped against the van. "Can't you military morons do anything right?"

"Hey, it's okay. We took care of it," the DNA donor said from the floor.

"You people suck," Don Ho said.

"Which apocalypse were you wincing about, Danny?" Jon asked.

Danny did his best to look like he wasn't lying. It didn't work well. "All of them, actually. But Jack's right. They've all been taken care of."

The DNA donor sighed. "Have either of you ever heard of the word classified?"

"Great," Buffy said. "First the goody snake thingy slimes my new shirt and now the military is starting apocalypses again." She jabbed Jack in the shoulder with her toe. "You people owe me."

Danny stepped into the breach. "We just want to know a few things, that's all. We want to know why the NID was interested in your friend, maybe we could help keep the NID away from him. We want to know how the van got from the field to the warehouse. We'd like to know who you are and why you'd use the word apocalypse. Why do you dislike the military so much?"

"How did you make our weapons heat up?" Sam asked.

Jon always thought she was an attractive woman, in a variety of ways that made her dangerous, don't go there material in memories he had that told him he was an old man in a 15 year old body. It was still there, only closer to the surface. Buffy clenched her fists and cocked her head.

"Buffy," Jon said. It came out cracked and squeaky. Shit. He cleared his throat. "Buffy. I know you don't have any reason to trust me. You weren't there when Willow did that thing she does, but I think the DNA donor can help you. He's an asshole, but he's an honest and fair asshole."

Don Ho frowned at him and Willow chewed her lip.

Buffy put some pressure on the DNA donor's head, who yelped, and looked at him over the shoulder. "Wills?"

"Just a little truth, you know?" Willow shrugged.

Buffy looked at Don Ho. "Xander?"

Don Ho scratched his chin. "Let's say that cherry here is on the level. Maybe his DNA donor can be trusted. The fact is that he's military. He says sir yes sir to someone who says sir yes sir to someone else who says yes sir to someone else who says yes sir to someone else and so on and so forth ad nausea. Can we trust them?"

"I'm not a freaking virgin!" Jon was going to hit him.

"Are, too." Don Ho said. "He's a colonel. He's middle management. He can't do shit for us and you know it, cherry."

The DNA donor snorted.

Danny lifted a finger. "Aah, actually, the nature of our project puts us outside of the usual chain of command that you're familiar with Mr. Xander. Jack's a lot closer to the top than that. Yes, we have our enemies, like the NID, but when it comes to national security, he's one of the most trusted people out there."

Buffy nibbled on her lips. God that was sexy.

Don Ho shrugged.

"Danny," the DNA donor said warningly.

"Xander," Buffy said. "Tell 'em."

Don Ho shuffled a few steps forward and shrugged. He and Buffy shared a few moments of intense and meaningful eye contact, then Don Ho shifted from his Blackbeard stance to Jimmy Buffett.

"It's like this. Vampires and demons are real."

There was silence in the warehouse. Then the DNA donor laughed. "Right kid. Pull the other one."

Don Ho grinned. "Sure. Space aliens pop out of the sky in the guise of Norse gods and clone Army Colonels."

The DNA donor fishtailed on the floor and almost got to his feet. Buffy's muscles bunched and kept him on the floor. The DNA donor glowered at her, then at Don Ho. "We're in the Air Force."

Don Ho smirked. "We're something of a vigilante group, at least according to the NID and other government agencies. We kill vampires and demons and we take care of assorted apocalypses before they take care of us. I'm assuming your apocalypses are of the alien variety?"

"Son of a fucking bitch," the DNA donor snarled. Jon shrank up against the van. He was in such deep shit.

"Anyway. The NID thinks that because we do the Van Helsing gig so well, we must be extra special people and they want to do to us what they want to do to your clone," Don Ho went on.

"So how did you move the van?" Sam asked.

"What was the purpose of the Latin chant right before the weapons turned hot enough to drop?" Danny added.

"We're not asking you to give us your super alien cloning toys, so don't ask us to give you our super vampire killing toys."

"Veritas?" Jon said. "It means truth, right?"

Danny shifted his glasses on his face and nodded.

Jon frowned and pointed at Willow. "Right after you said veritas, you made me tell you everything. I couldn't lie and I couldn't not tell you. And the thing with the van. It was like the stargate only no moving, no wormhole. On second we were in a pasture, the next second flashy wormhole lights and Buffy was opening the door in the warehouse."

"What seems like magic is advanced technology," Sam said, peering at Willow.

Willow shook her head and rolled her eyes.

Magic was only advanced technology when it was only technology. Sometimes maybe magic was just magic. Like when pretty lesbians chanted and special ops colonels couldn't stop blabbing. 15-year old hormones or not, he could hold his tongue in the face of torture and boobies. "My date was a vampire?" Jon said.

"Complete blood sucker," Don Ho agreed. "Only wanted you for one thing."

Jon kicked the floor in disgust.

Don Ho rolled his eyes. "You only wanted her for one thing, so it evens out in the end."

Danny frowned. "Vampires? They're myths."

"Do you mind getting off of my head?" the DNA donor complained.

Jon didn't think that evened out at all. "She wanted to kill me! I only wanted a little fun."

"For her, that was fun," Kennedy said reasonably. "So, the army boys going to play nice now?"

"I don't know." Buffy prodded the DNA donor. "Are you army boys going to play nice now?"

"Just as long as Dracula doesn't show up. How does that sound?" the DNA donor said. Jon knew the tone. It said, at least to someone who knew him well, you're looney tunes, lady, and I'm going to humor you until I can take you out.

Buffy didn't appear to be buying it. "You keep your people off my people."

"Fine," the DNA donor agreed.

"Fine," Buffy said.

"Now can you get off of my head?"

Buffy stepped back carefully, keeping a weather eye on the DNA donor.

"Huh. Dracula. You ate bugs!" Jon started laughing. "Harris, you are such a fucking Renfield!"

"I am not a fucking Renfield!" Don Ho snarled.

"Want some mice? Cats maybe?"

"Maybe you two should get a room." Kennedy smirked at them. "Work out some issues."

"Hey!" the DNA donor bellowed. "Not to be the voice of responsibility here, but we got a dead guy and a conference to finish."

Buffy frowned and waggled a useful looking, if dainty, fist. Jon hated how much that turned him on. "There's no conference to finish. You got your info and you can keep the dead guy."

"Right. You expect us to believe in vampires." The DNA donor turned to Jon. "Did you actually see your, ah, _date_ turn into a vampire?"

"Nope. Just saved her from certain doom on the pointy end of a stick wielded by Renfield here." Jon scratched his chin. "She hissed and took off running into the cemetery. She could have been more grateful. She could have at least saved me from the friggin' cops who thought I killed people like, you know, Dracula."

"Christ," the DNA donor growled. "I don't buy the vampire thing. The technology that red is throwing around, though. Where'd you get it?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Wills, get us out of here."

Jon perked up. Fighting the forces of darkness was right up his alley. He was getting bored in high school anyway. "Hey, can I go with you guys?"

The DNA donor made a few hand signals to the troops, who acknowledged.

"Oh, no way, cherry. You stay here with big daddy Rambo." Don Ho jerked his thumb at the DNA donor and sidled closer to the red head.

The DNA donor gave a sharp nod. Ferretti's team sprung into action. The DNA donor took the opening Buffy's casual stance gave him and took her unprotected side, grabbing her wrist and twisting her around. He held her securely with one arm, both of her wrists cuffed gently in his big paws. Ferretti's boys took down Don Ho and the red head without any trouble while Teal'c did his best to corral Kennedy.

"Now," the DNA donor said arrogantly, "we'll get to the bottom of things."


	4. My Superhero Nickname...

Buffy rolled her eyes. She reached up with both hands, grabbed the DNA donor's shirt above her petite little self, and threw him over her shoulder and halfway across the warehouse. Kennedy paused to flash a grin at Buffy and started whaling on Teal'c like Muhammed Ali whaling on Alfred E Neumann, only Teal'c was Al and the little girl was the great Ali. Willow was on the cell phone again, amiably chatting with someone as if she were in the middle of the mall instead of fending off Ferretti's people. Somehow. Jon couldn't see it. She wasn't even paying attention to them. They'd get close and she'd make a shooing motion with her hand, like his mother used to do every time he'd annoy her when she was on the phone or cooking, and whichever one of Ferretti's boys had come too close would go skidding off across the warehouse floor. Don Ho was the surprise, though. He was beating off Sam and Danny, not that Danny was real difficult to beat up, but Sam was a tough cookie.

Jon stood there with his jaw hanging down somewhere around his knees while Buffy and Kennedy sauntered over to finish trouncing Ferretti's team once they finished with Teal'c and the DNA donor. Danny, being the smartest of the lot, backed away with his hands in the air and his glasses knocked off his face. "Easy, there," he told Don Ho and Buffy. "I wanted to talk, not fight, remember?"

"You wear camo. Makes you the enemy," Don Ho pointed out.

Buffy grabbed Danny by the lapel and pulled him down to her level. "I get the feeling that the asshole doesn't listen to what you have to say anyway."

"Yeah, Jack O'Neill doesn't listen to anyone but himself," Jon volunteered.

Kennedy glared at him and cracked her knuckles.

Jon raised his hands. "Hey, I'm not him. You can put those away."

Don Ho smirked. "No need to break out the big guns, Kennedy. I can take out the little creep."

"It's kind of obvious why the NID is interested in your group, but we're not like the NID. We're not into kidnapping and forcing people to do things they don't want to. We would just like to share information to see if it's helpful," Danny said.

The DNA donor groaned and flopped onto his back. Apparently he was coming around. Jon was beginning to think there was something to that song "Hope I die before I get old." In more ways than one.

Buffy snorted. "Right. Your idea of sharing information is for us to be all with the sharing and you to be not with the sharing. I don't think so."

Danny sighed. "If it were up to me."

Buffy shook her head. The golden strands of hair moved like silk around her shoulders. She hadn't even broken a sweat. God, how hot was that? "Obviously it's not. We're leaving and you're not going to stop us."

"But—"

She held up her hand, palm flat to Danny. "Not talking to you anymore." She turned and faced Jon. "You, soldier boy. You're a clone of the asshole, right?"

Shit, she had her hands on her hips again and her breasts were doing things in her top that were making the idiot in his pants do the rumba. He cleared his throat and forced his eyes to go above her neckline. "Okay, a clone, yes, but an asshole? I like to think that I've learned a thing or two about tact and diplomacy during my second tour of high school."

"Well, you hit on me less than Xander ever did at your age."

"Hey!" Don Ho crossed his arms. "You were privileged to be the object of my affections and you so know it. I had only the most discerning taste in women. Cordy said so."

Buffy grinned at him for a moment, before returning her attention to Jon.

The DNA donor sat up slowly. "Did anyone get the name of the snake that ribboned me? Ugh."

"So, clone boy. You've got the full army guy package without the whole army ownership issues. How many years of experience are we talking here? The old guy looks like he's 70 or something," Buffy said, eyeing the DNA donor.

He was offended on his own behalf. "Hey! I'm not that old. I'm a mature 45. I've got 15 years solid field combat experience, most of that leadership in special operations. I've done 20 years in the service. Why, you offering me a job? What are the perks? Communal showers?"

Don Ho laughed. "No, the asshole cloned through loud and clear."

"Xander, knock it off. Pay sucks and the hours are worse, but there are lots and lots of girls you can drool over."

Apparently the idea struck Don Ho as funny because he started giggling like one of said girls. "If they don't kill him a lot for doing it." Don Ho quit laughing. "Wait a minute. We don't need _him_."

Willow hung up the cell phone. "Whenever you're ready, Buffy. And that's a great idea! Xander could use some help."

"No!" Don Ho snapped. "Xander does not need this kind of backup. I've got Andrew if the shit hits the fan."

"Andrew," Kennedy said in the same way one would suggest using a teacup poodle as a member of the Wings.

Willow and Buffy looked at each other, then Willow sighed. "Andrew means well and he does a good job for what he does, but face it Xander, when it comes to carrying out a strategic mission, he's a great Trekkie."

Don Ho crossed his arms over his chest and harumphed. "Andrew and I do just fine."

Jon smirked. "Oh, right. You and Andrew, Don Ho."

The DNA donor got to his feet. "Whatever you're planning, well, not happening. Jon's going to high school in the Springs. He's not authorized to go anywhere else."

Don Ho glowered at the DNA donor. "Cherry can come with us if he wants to. I just don't happen to want him to."

"I'm not a fucking virgin!" Jon yelled. "And you'll be on your knees kissing my feet after a week, wondering what you've ever done without me."

Danny helped Sam to her feet. "You're right, Jack. All evidence to the contrary, you have matured since high school."

"See? I told you so," Jack gloated. Then he frowned. "Wait a minute."

"Either you paid for it and someone was stupid enough to take your allowance, or someone's got more pity than sense," Don Ho pointed out. He faced Buffy. "I'll find someplace for him just so I can watch him break in two days. Unless he can fix cars, then I'll protect him from the girls."

Buffy shot Don Ho a look that said he would've found Jon a place whether he liked it or not. "All right, clone boy, you've got the job. You'll be working for Xander. Whenever you're ready, Wills."

Jon smiled at her. If he had been closer he would have tried for a handshake. Just the thought of it made his palms sweaty. "The name is Jon. Jon O'Neill. That's with two L's."

Don Ho rolled his eyes. "She's got a boyfriend, Romeo. Even if she didn't, she's way out of your league."

Jon continued to smile at Buffy while Willow started to chant. "I'm not trying to be a boyfriend. I'm just trying to be nice to a new colleague."

Buffy quirked an eyebrow and half-smiled. "If you say so, clone boy."

The DNA donor stuck a finger in the air. "Excuse me. Remember us? I'm the boy's _daddy_."

"DNA donor," Jon said. "I'm an emancipated minor."

"Who is under military jurisdiction. You're not—what the fuck?"

Buffy, Willow, Kennedy, Don Ho, and himself did the stargate without the stargate thing, just like the van had done before. Jon caught a glimpse of Carter's slapped in the face by a fish expression.

"I want my superhero nickname to be the Colonel. It has a ring to it," Jon said, taking perverse pleasure in the outrage on the DNA donor's face. He couldn't hear what the man was saying, though.

"The Scoobies just got a new donut boy," Don Ho said with something that approached A-Team levels of satisfaction just before the world wavered like a swoosh through the stargate and the warehouse disappeared.

The End


End file.
